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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248761">gunmetal soda cans</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr'>bellygunnr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath, Character Study, Gen, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:08:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>tommy considers the aftermath.</p><p>a non-game setting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey &amp; Tommy Coolatta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>gunmetal soda cans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>time slips through your fingers now that you're home-- as home as one can be, in a world not your own. things that once comforted you, brought you peace, are tainted by subtle, base reassociation-- wires already crossed are either snipped or tangled now. it's not your fault. of course it isn't. but you are still left floundering in the void, with no one's hand in sight, and the can of orange soda--</p><p>wet, cold, numbing your fingers, a reminder of gunmetal and heavy, unfamiliar weapons. even the sensation of the syrupy carbonation is adverse-- what once was comfortable and familiar is now an enemy, dredging up anxiety and memories better left forgotten. you set the can down without finishing it. you find your dog, sunkist, in the living room of your new house. </p><p>the house itself is still rather plain. undecorated, unchristened, sparsely furnished by the whims of your father, or perhaps the whims of some other power. you're not really sure. there hasn't been time to dwell on it. sunkist is warm beneath your hands-- and soft, tangible, a solid ground to peaceful reality in your new cocktail of hell.</p><p>sunkist is nice. sunkist is present. </p><p>sunkist is an entire weight on your body, warm and comforting, soothing so that you don't pay much mind to the air shivering violently around you. </p><p>that's familiar. that's still a shot of fear and adrenalin down your spine, but it's familiar. </p><p>it's just benry. </p><p>"dr. freeman?" you ask, because you've both long since learned that's all it takes. </p><p>"uh, yeah," benry confirms.</p><p>benry drags his hands through sunkist's thick coat of fur. you know this because the dog huffs, and you can see the glowing trails left behind. </p><p>"this won't be uh, this won't be fixed easy," you say, staring up at your ceiling. "black mesa- black mesa doesn't, doesn't exist here. except in- in our minds."</p><p>"our minds," benry says slowly. "gordon's not, not going to- he's still- he doesn't listen, to me.." </p><p>you nod. the good doctor worries you.</p><p>"i'm scared, benry." </p><p>"yeah." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi it's short!! someone sajd they wanted a how tommy is handling this so i did it</p></blockquote></div></div>
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